Through Phantom Eyes: Volume Five - Christine

by Theodora Bruns

  “Oh, Erik,” she whimpered as the tears continued to form in her most beautiful blue eyes.

  But, once more, I stopped her. “Please, Christine, don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t deserve it, and I don’t deserve your consideration in this matter. But if you agree, it will make my last days bearable.”

  She nodded and whispered, “Certainly, Erik.”

  I again looked into the fire and gathered more courage before I went on. “But please give me my ring back. As I’ve said before, it has sentimental value to me, and I’d like to be buried with it on my finger. However, put it on my left hand and not my right. I want to take my make-believe of being a husband into the grave with me. Can you do that for me, Christine?”

  Her eyes were filled with more tears by then, and she nodded.

  “Please, don’t cry, my sweet. This can be a happy day. It can be the beginning of a new life for you and Raoul, a life without my insanity tormenting either of you.”

  “I’ll do whatever you ask of me,” she replied softly.

  I knelt before her, and, for the last time, I slid the ring off my finger and onto hers. I held her hand as I kissed the ring along with her fingers. I kept my eyes closed until I could contain my own tears, knowing that was, more than likely, the last time I would feel her touch.

  She raised my head and looked into my eyes, and what I saw surprised me. To this day, I’m at a loss to describe it. There was sadness, yes, I expected that, but there was something else as we stared into each other’s eyes. It was only the chiming of the clock that broke our gaze.

  “I’ll stay with you and take care of you for as long as you need me,” she offered sincerely.

  Considering how my death would be played out, it wouldn’t do to have her around to witness it. So I managed to convince her that it would only make it harder on both of us if she did; therefore, she agreed to stay with Madame Valerius.

  She looked past me at Raoul, still asleep on the divan, and then back at me and asked, “Would you do me one last favor, Erik?”

  “Anything you want, my sweet.”

  “Play your music for me and sing for me.”

  “Absolutely,” I replied as I got to my feet. “What would you like to hear?”

  She listed a few of her favorites, one of them being “One Beat.” I honestly didn’t know if I could play that piece again, but I couldn’t refuse her. When I reached the door to my music room, I turned back toward her.

  “I also have one last request to ask you. Don’t lose your courage, Christine. I may not have been a real angel, but the advice and instruction I gave you was true and pure. You are a great artist, and you must never listen to the harsh criticism of those who will only be jealous of your talent. Never lose your love for music, and, once in a while, think of me when you sing.” I tried to smile as I said one last thought. “Who knows, perhaps I’ll still be able to hear you sing, and as a real angel this time.”

  Those were the wrong words to use, and she broke down. She jumped to her feet and ran to me, throwing her arms around me and sobbing against my chest.

  “This can’t be happening. Everyone I love leaves me. You can’t leave me.”

  I wrapped my arms around the woman I loved and the woman who’d just acknowledged her love for me. I held her close, and bittersweet tears filled my eyes. Forty-five years I’d waited for a woman to both love me and kiss me, and to think I received and lost her all in one day.

  I closed my eyes, lowered my face down into her hair, and whispered, “Oh, Christine, I’m so sorry for all of this. I never meant for you to be hurt by my presence in your life. I only wanted to help you and love you. I’m so sorry—so very sorry.”

  She continued to cry against my chest, and I continued to hold her tightly and cried into my mask, never wanting to let her go. We stayed in that position until she stopped crying and pulled back from me, and then I looked down at her face and wiped her tears away with my finger.

  Some of my resolve began to slip away from me as I studied her eyes. I saw in them what she really felt for me—love. In a moment of weakness, I questioned if maybe we could still make it all work, but it was only a moment. In the end, I knew what I was doing was the best thing for her. Living with me would be like playing Russian roulette on a daily basis. She’d never know when the fatal hammer would strike, but it was sure to strike.

  She wanted to sit in what she considered her chair in my music room as I played, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on my last pieces for her if I was in a position to look over at her, especially during “One Beat.” So I convinced her to stay in the parlor so she could let me know when Raoul or Oded woke up. She finally agreed and went back to my chair by the fire.

  I first went to my armoire to close the doors that had been left open, but before I could close them, I saw the small box containing my supply of morphine. Then I felt a peace pass through me, a peace that was so long in coming. A peace much like the effect a large dose of that drug could bring, a calming and serene peace. Soon, I thought, there’ll be complete peace.

  I closed the doors and then went to my piano and sat on the bench. But I didn’t play right away; instead, I spread my fingers out over the keys and looked at them, remembering my long history with music. I felt calm and at rest as never before. I knew what I had to do, and I was in harmony with my decision. I loved Christine enough to set her free in the only way she could ever be truly released from me.

  I played all the pieces she’d asked for, including the emotional “One Beat.” I continued to play more soft music, trying to remove the horrors of the night from my home. After about an hour, I felt someone’s presence, and I looked up and saw Raoul standing in the doorway, wearing my oversized black clothes. I got to my feet, not knowing what to expect from him.

  After an uncomfortable few moments, he turned without saying a word and left. I followed him back into the parlor where he sat down on the divan. Christine was asleep in my chair, which was better than I’d hoped for. She needed rest, and I needed to speak with Raoul in private.

  “More tea?” I questioned as I filled his cup back up. “It’s best if you drink just as much as you can stomach. It’ll help you recover from the effect of your near drowning.”

  “Yes, the drowning caused by you,” he responded, with a tone showing his return to the angered living.

  I looked at the locked door to the mirror chamber and replied, “It’s most unfortunate you stumbled upon that room, but you should count yourself blessed to have survived it.”

  He sighed and managed to talk to me in a civilized tone. “That’s what I don’t understand. I can understand why you tried to kill us, but I don’t understand why you rescued us.”

  I stood behind my chair and looked down at our sleeping Christine. “It’s all about her, Raoul. It’s always about her and her welfare. I’ve wanted only what’s best for her. Sometimes I might have gotten a bit off track, but it was always for her or about her.”

  He also was looking at her and started to curse me, while I held my tongue and took his abuse.

  When he was finished, I continued. “I can definitely understand your anger and hatred for me, and that’s fine and probably just as it should be, but I ask you to trust what I’m about to say.”

  “Trust you? You expect me to trust you after what you’ve done?”

  “Yes, I do. I easily could have let you die in my mirror chamber; in fact, I was looking forward to it, but I didn’t, and that was for one reason—Christine. She saved us all. I strongly suspect that you and Oded went down into my wine cellar and saw what I had stored down there—am I correct?”

  “Yes. A madman’s wine cellar filled with gunpowder.”

  “Well, I do have some very good wines down there also, but, yes, the gunpowder is what I was referring to. With the turning of a simple switch, all of us would have been gone, along with thousands above us. You’re a military man. You know the power of just one of these barrels. Can you imagine the expl
osion that would have occurred if I’d set all of them off at once? In addition, I have 10 times that many strategically placed around this building, and they would have gone off one after the other until this building was leveled.”

  He shook his head. “That’s demented.”

  “Perhaps. It’s all a matter of perspective, though. To me, your chosen profession is what’s demented. You put a uniform on your back, a sword at your hip, a gun over your shoulder, and you kill other men just because their uniform is a different color. Then, when you send enough men to their graves, you let other men pin ribbons on your chest and call you brave; now, in my book, that’s demented. At least I don’t expect to be congratulated or patted on the back or given ribbons for what I nearly did.

  “And another thing, what I was preparing to do had its start in love, perhaps a crazy love, but love nonetheless. Whereas your profession is based on hate, hate for anyone of a different nation. Again, I call that demented, so I believe it’s your thinking that’s a bit twisted.”

  By then I was pacing through my parlor and prepared for him to blast me with his haughtiness, but he didn’t. Instead, he sat quietly and appeared to be in deep thought, so I used that grace period to continue with my original thought.

  “At any rate, you know the power I had at my disposal—actually, it’s the power I still have, but I no longer want it. I want you and Christine to leave here and live a happy life with lots of children. But, to make that happen, I need your help. Are you willing to set aside our animosity long enough to help Christine through what’s ahead of her? You can blame me for everything if you wish, it no longer matters. But I ask you to please help me help Christine.”

  With his usual arrogance, his words cut at me. “What are you talking about? You don’t need to do anything. I can take care of Christine without your help.”

  I stopped pacing, put a dining chair in the center of the parlor, and straddled it facing him. I knew I needed to keep my voice calmed and unruffled if I were to get my logic through to him, but at times it wasn’t easy.

  “Under different circumstances,” I started again, “I’d agree with you completely, but we’re living in the midst of a bizarre love triangle. You criticized my age, but you need to use my age and the wisdom that comes along with it to help this wonderful woman who’s caught between us. She’s what matters, not you and not me. Once she wakes, you’re free to take her away with you, with a promise from me that I’ll no longer interfere with what you want for her. I only ask that you treat her well. She’s quite precious you know.”

  He scowled at me. “You monster. You think you have the right to say when and where I do what and with whom? You’re wrong. I’ll take Christine away from this place of death, but not because you give me your permission, but because it’s my right.”

  I took a deep breath, trying not to lash out at him or strangle him, but he was making it extremely hard. I knew what I needed to do, so I tried not to let his words distract me; however, I just had to give him a reminder about his close encounter with the Grim Reaper.

  “Absolutely, you’re right. But, in the process, don’t forget where you are and who holds the only keys to the exits from this place. It would also be good to remember who your host is. It’s the wisest gentleman that shows respect for the host who invited him in, and that goes double for this particular host.”

  “Respect for you? Why?” he came back in his true form.

  “Let me put it this way, I might have saved your life this night, but try to keep a clear picture of what you went through before I did. Then remember, with the snap of a finger, the diabolical mind that put you in harm’s way to begin with could do it again and again and again, perhaps in the next minute or perhaps in the next year.

  “For how do you know that, before you reach your carriage tonight, you won’t fall into another one of my torture chambers? How do you know that it won’t be worse than the last one? How do you know that, before you get home, all the wheels won’t fall off your carriage and you’ll have a terrible accident, perhaps bad enough to send you to your grave?”

  With indignation, he accused me. “You’re lying just to frighten me, but it won’t work, because I don’t fear you.”

  “Lying? A question can’t be a lie. A statement can be true or false, but a question can be neither. Didn’t you know that?”

  “You’re mad and only know how to talk in riddles.”

  “You might be right about that, but then I’m also right about something. I get what I want, Raoul, and the fact that you spent last night in my chamber of horrors and that you’re sitting in my parlor right now should prove that. I get what I want. So take the advice of this elderly madman—don’t test me.”

  Fifty-Two

  He didn’t respond verbally, but his eyes told me I’d gotten my warning across, which was a good thing, since I was in no mood to waste any more of my energy contending with that young and arrogant fool. I took a deep breath and thought about my next words before I spoke them. Then I lowered my eyes to my hands and rubbed my naked little finger, causing him to gasp. When I looked back at him, he was studying Christine’s hands.

  “You’re doing it again. You . . .”

  “Raoul, please! Regardless of what you think of me, try to think of what’s best for the woman we both love. I’ll be out of your life forever in a very short time, so please stay focused on Christine and what’s best for her. Can you be man enough to do that?”

  He glared at me but didn’t answer, so I went on. “I have a request of you, and remember, it’s not for me but for Christine that I ask this. Within a few days, I’ll no longer be a living ghost but a dead one, and, while I’m capable of many things, there’s one thing I can’t do for myself. I’ll need someone to bury me.

  “Christine has agreed to come back to me at that time and give me my ring. I don’t want her to be here alone, so I ask you to accompany her here and help her with that final scene in this twisted drama. While you’re here, I’d like you to bury me.”

  His eyes showed his confusion, and he frowned at me. “If this is another one of your tricks, I’ll not be a party to it.”

  “I no longer need tricks,” I replied sincerely, and then spread my hands out from my sides. “My hands are wide open. This is all very real, Vicomte. This is no act, unless you want to call it my swan song. You can join in and dance on my grave if that will make it worth your while.”

  I took a deep breath and looked at Christine. “Everything I’m asking you to do, Raoul, is for Christine’s happiness. You and Christine will leave here soon, and I’ll be leaving this earth not long after that. Shortly, you’ll read in the obituaries the announcement that Erik is dead. When you see it, I’m asking you to bring Christine back here and watch you bury me.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous! That’s mad! You just want to go out in a grand manner. If you really care about Christine, you’ll simply let her go without making such a big show of it.”

  “That might sound true at first thought, but think deeper. She knows . . . you both know me to be a master deceiver. I’m someone who can appear and disappear in the blink of an eye. Unless both of you see me dead, unless you can feel my cold skin, unless you see the dirt being shoveled over me, would you ever truly believe I was dead? Wouldn’t you always wonder if it was all another game—another trick on the eyes?

  “If you ever saw a black-caped man slipping around a corner, would you wonder if it was me? Would you suspect me of being the culprit of every strange occurrence in your lives? If you heard a creaky floor in the middle of the night, would you wonder?

  “Raoul, I know how much Christine loves you, and I think if you’re honest with yourself that you have to know how much I mean to her. If I just disappear, without her having the chance to say a final goodbye, there might always be a portion of her that will wonder—what if? And with that portion she might always question where I am or if I’m really dead or alive. That same portion could be a wedge between you and h
er and her happiness.

  “I don’t want Christine to be left with any doubts, nor you. You’ll never be able to live a happy life if you’re always second guessing my death and looking around every corner and listening to every strange noise. Wouldn’t you rather know for sure that I was dead and not preparing some new diabolical calamity for you? Do you understand what I’m trying to explain to you?”

  “Yes,” he said softly. “I see what you mean.”

  “I know it won’t be the easiest job, watching Christine mourn over my dead body, but it’ll be momentary, and then you can move on and have the rest of your lives together—in peace.”

  We sat quietly for a minute or so, watching Christine, and then I presented my next request.

  “In addition, I ask that you not take her for your own until then. I know my request sounds absurd, but right now Christine is my living wife. And since I’m certain you wouldn’t want to make her an adulteress, I ask that she be allowed to wear my gold band until she returns it to me and I’m buried.

  “Perhaps this is ridiculous, my being concerned about a wife who really isn’t mine, but I ask you to allow me this one last fantasy in my life, to have a living wife. I only want her as a wife for a few more days, and then she’ll be yours for the rest of your days.”

  He was still looking somewhat shocked and confused, so I tried to clarify any doubts in his mind.

  “Christine is a good girl and always has been in my presence. She’s still chaste and virtuous, so you have no need to be concerned about how much of a wife she’s been to me these last months or what I’ll expect from her in the days ahead. She’ll remain in your company and care. I only want to pretend she’s my wife with my ring on her finger, that’s all. I only want to pretend much the same way an actor pretends he’s married on the stage. I only want to pretend for a few more days. Please allow this insane man his one last idiosyncrasy.”